


Oh The Things That We've Done

by ivanolix



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Canon - TV, Canon Het Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Married Couple, Married Sex, Meta, Past Relationship(s), Porn, Porn Watching, Season/Series 03, Teasing, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-19
Updated: 2010-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:57:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanolix/pseuds/ivanolix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam finally has perfect material for teasing Kara, getting them a little closer to their old habits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh The Things That We've Done

**Author's Note:**

> For bsg_kink 's Pornography challenge. Thank you to lizardbeth_j for suggesting this idea about Kara's past.

Kara would be lying if she said she didn’t notice when Lee and Dee finally left Joe’s, but she’d also be lying if she said it mattered much anymore. She’s made her choice—again—and she’s tipsy enough right now to deal with it. Especially if Sam keeps grinning at her over the shot glasses, and as long as he doesn’t look at her with eyes that say _forever_.

She chokes on another laugh and sets her glass down, fingering the smooth rim.

“Done?” he asks, light tone as he leans back a little from her space, as if remembering again that this isn’t fully real again.

Out of a habit older than her most recent ones, she leans a little in, close enough that she can smell him. “Still living on the Salpica, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Unless the Fleet turned upside down in scheduling, you’ve got about fifteen minutes to get to the shuttle, or it’s the midnight ride.” Kara taps the counter with one finger, raises an eyebrow for emphasis.

“You know the schedule.” Sam’s lip quirks a little, too serious to be amused.

“I figured it out.” Kara eyes him straight, the back of her mind considering that even now he might not get what the booty calls really were. They weren’t thoughtless.

“So.” Sam keeps it flat and short, slapping his hand lightly on the bar.

“So I’m not keeping you out that late,” Kara says, a gurgle of laughter caught in her throat. Teasing him is like a remedy to all her worries for the moment—that and alcohol. She shrugs her shoulders, going by instinct. “Only went there once, Sam, maybe you should take me to see the improvements.”

His eyes light up with something deep, but for her sake he hides it behind a mocking tone. “You’re assuming there are any.”

Kara snorts, hits his arm. “You don’t take me, Sam, I’ll have to assume you’re hiding something you don’t want to share.”

Sam chuckles, moves closer to her, rests his arm around her waist almost like old times. “I wish,” he mock sighs.

“Stop talking, start moving,” Kara orders, dragging him from the bar. “I wasn’t funning about the time.”

They hurry off to the shuttle bay like newlyweds sneaking away from the reception, only she can’t think of it like that; with denial and regret skimming so close beneath the surface they’re still a little tender yet. Kara doesn’t look too closely at Sam as they wait, though she can feel the matching anticipation, and knows that even after everything that was half-promised tonight there’s nothing bitter about them having sex on the mind. It’s been their default no matter what else has been going on.

Kara gropes Sam on the flight over, much to the amusement of the other passengers who don’t bother turning their heads. Sam fidgets, pretends not to enjoy it, then turns to kiss her sharply when it’s too tempting. She hums against his mouth as if it was her plan all along, drags her fingers through his hair as she absorbs the taste of his mouth. It’s a shame they have to break it up to get off the shuttle a few minutes later.

But with alcohol and the beginnings of arousal rushing through her veins, she’s not regretting a thing as they pass through the Salpica’s corridors. The last time she was here, she’d barely sent him away a couple weeks before, and the wrenching grief and pain of her heart not connected to him had sent her to this. It had been a painful place, so she doesn’t choose to remember that part. Or the part where she disappears on him in the night, with no clue of when the next time might be. The middle, though—her brain focuses on that.

Sam pulls back the door of his room finally, and Kara’s half stepping over his feet as he walks in backwards, ready to pull his head back down for a kiss to get things restarted. It’s so easy. It’s like a part of her being to want him and have him want her back.

But as Sam’s hands reach for her, as he turns her around and tries to stumble further in, he stops short at the middle and groans. “Jean...”

Kara blinks, not ready for that. “New fantasy?”

He quickly backtracks, looking back at her. “No, not that, just—” He takes the hand that had been cupping the back of her head, and waves it behind her.

Kara turns on her shoe, and stops short at the sight. Half a dozen binders adorn Sam’s bed, papers falling out, blocking their way to a comfortable frak. Not that Kara has to care about comfort, but the option would be nice.

“Jean likes to inhibit your sex life?” Kara doubts it, knowing the woman and the way she’s been happy for Sam whenever he’s happy. But Sam’s dismayed face amuses her, and makes her grin up at him. “They’ll dig in a bit, but I’m sure your back will survive.”

Sam grunts his disapproval with that plan, and with a roll of her eyes Kara follows him to move the offending objects before things get too heavy. “What the hell is all this?”

“A bribe.” Sam scoops some of the loose papers back into the binder. “Y’know, what’s left of the team is pretty scattered about the Fleet, so people forget...” He drops off, a moment of darkness needing to be shaken before he carries on. Kara remember the C-bucs; for that moment, she knows what he means.

“It’s funny, the way they talk about us when they don’t remember we’re with them now.” Sam glances to her with a light in his eyes. “All sorts of things.”

Kara’s intrigue is piqued, and she glances down at the binder in her hands.

“Yeah, after Jean told me about this, she and Hillard went to round up everything as a bribe for not making fun of the perpetrators ever again.”

A bit of laughter escapes Kara like the bullet from a gun as she reads the first page, recognizing this. “Frak, Sam, is this C-bucs fanfiction?”

“No joke,” Sam says with a twisted grin. “You wouldn’t believe how many people had printed out their favorites before coming up to Galactica. No networked machines, so no other way to get it.”

Kara can remember the old days now, before she could have guessed that it would all end up like this. Her kind of sports fan didn’t much care about the games, not when performances were so easily snarked. It was a lot more entertaining to write the mocking hijinks of what happened post-game. Mocking and hot—because libidos couldn’t be denied sometimes, and damn the C-bucs were toned.

“Kara?”

“So you actually read this?” They’d once discussed her being a fan, but Kara has all but forgotten the fic, and in any case most of the discussion had been dissecting Sam’s performance until sex was the only way Sam could make up for his flaws. He had. It had been a success all around, and since the C-bucs didn’t exist anymore, Kara’s mostly forgotten. Now, trying to think back to the old days, it’s amusing. “Some people thought you didn’t realize it existed.”

“Oh hell, we knew,” Sam chuckles. “Best post-game week activity, when Coach wasn’t busting our tails on the court, was betting on what pairings would get the most play on the discussion boards.”

“Sam/Jean didn’t win every time?” Kara asks with a dance of her brows, putting the binder down and moving into his space.

“Not as often as you’d think, given that it was the closest to the truth,” Sam says, grinning in a way that memories didn’t often produce. Then, with a cock of his head, open binder still resting in one large hand— “You followed it too?”

“Oh, there was nothing so fun as making fun of your fangirls,” Kara says, amusement running through her as she bends the truth like it’s made of rubber. “And some of those writers, yeah.”

“We did mock the tendency to, uh, enhance us all.”

“I did think about making a comment the first time we...” Kara runs her finger down his chest, but lets the sentence trail off, not ready for where memories might take them.

“You know, there was this one writer,” Sam says to keep silence from falling, slowly as his eyes are still captured by the path of her finger. “Prose sort of purpleish, sometimes had a weird kink for pairing me with other team captains, always PWP.”

Kara blinks but forces herself not to look up. “Oh?” she says, because she can’t say anything else without being on the verge of falsehood.

“Yeah, it was actually the best to read, because it just—well, here, you’d enjoy it.” Sam flips through the binders. “There was one of the fics, the title made me catch notice, it was ‘You Only Need One Talent’, and it was Jean busting my ass about not being able to catch a point...before we got to the sex, of course.” He gives a slight snorting chuckle as he finds the story.

Kara flushes, but he doesn’t notice. Frak. There’s no way to distract him from this.

“So, like this: _‘Jean told herself she’d never get involved with useless men, but when Sam was in the showers, and the water ran tracks down to his—’_ ”

“Frak!” Kara bursts out, unable to bite her tongue.

“What?” Sam looks confused.

“Forgot how bad it was,” Kara says, feeling her face hot, grabbing him and hoping that sex would help her forget again. “’s a turn-off, Sam. Not why I’m here.”

“Not that bad, if you were in the mood,” Sam says, but not really thinking about the words as his eyes watch her face. “Kara...”

“Frak me, Sam,” Kara orders under her breath, wishing to all the gods that he’ll drop this before she breaks.

“You wrote fanfic?”

Too late. Kara groans and pulls his hair, kissing him.

“Kara?” He’s too curious to give in, damn him.

Kara stands back, throws out her hands. “Yes. So frak you, you know now.”

There’s a wicked gleam in Sam’s eye. “Not just any fic...”

“Sam, gods help me, if you don’t shut up about this—”

He leans in, reaching around absently to capture her hands, hold them behind her back. “So maybe I should keep all these then, not burn them after all.”

“No. Burn them.” Kara’s jaw is clenched, eyes meeting his, almost fiery enough to burn the paper with just a glance. He doesn’t budge, doesn’t give her a sign, the pads of his fingers making circular patterns in her palms. “People do things to get through flight school, Sam. Crazy things.”

“Mm hmm,” Sam says, nodding, only half-buying it.

Kara glares at him, then mutters. “And teaching at the Academy.” Fast, then, before he can think about what he heard, she rants, “You start making dumb remarks, you know I’m going to track down Jean and make her help me beat you senseless, so for both our sakes just shut up and kiss me.”

To the relief of so many things, he does. His mouth plays with hers, tongue flicking at her lip, and the squirming sensation is gone as she melts against him. She pulls her hands from his grasp, yanking at his shoulders, and his hands play with her hair, curling and tugging at the ends.

“So,” he murmurs against her lips, vibrations setting her body rushing with tingles again, “if I keep these fics, I learn all your kinks?”

“Frak you to hell, Sam,” she swears back and bites down on his lower lip until he yelps. Irritated and turned on at once, she shoves him back against the bed, only knocking the last binder off after he’s crashed against it. The light in his eyes is mocking, though, and she loves and hates it. “They’re too old anyways,” she scoffs, pulling up his shirt with one hand, the other dancing across the skin where he’s most sensitive.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he answers, lying back. “Three whole years, I'll bet. Or is it four, since we got on this hellish rollercoaster of an apocalypse?” He avoids saying that it really is like a lifetime, though.

“A damn long time, that’s all that matters to you,” Kara says, twisting one of his nipples between her thumb and forefinger. He winces, and a smirk crosses her lips.

“You ever fantasize about the groupie and the sports star?” he asks.

Damn, he’s incorrigible, but he doesn’t have anything on her, and she leans in, watching his eyes follow the swing of her breasts. “Been there, done that, wiped the court with your pathetic ass.”

“Wait, you weren’t a groupie when we met,” he protests, reaching up to help her remove shirt and bra.

She slides out of them with a sharp grin, dropping them off the side of the bed as she moves towards his pants. “No. You were.”

He murmurs incoherently as she slips them down, then tosses out, “So your penname really was—?”

With a glare, she slips his cock free, and does the only thing she know will shut him up for a good long while. He chokes as she slides him into her mouth, tongue curling. Even from her angle sitting straddled around his legs, she can see his chest twitch, see his eyes roll back in his head. She can’t help but grin around the feel of him in her mouth, warm and hard and familiar. In the silence of her victory, she flicks her tongue up his length, swirls it around the head of his cock, taking her time and using all the tricks she learned on New Caprica.

The buzz of arousal, emanating from him and burning in her to make her wet and achy, leaves her thinking that she doesn’t hate being married to Sam. She never really did, not the way she wanted to. It’s a triumph to hear his moans as she does maddening things to his cock, it sends a thrill through her, and yet if he hadn’t been teasing before it wouldn’t have been as good. If he didn’t care enough to play with her, this would only be about gratification.

She can’t think about all that it means, still high on this game they’ve been playing since Joe’s, but what does that matter? Finally releasing him for the moment, riding up his body until she can kiss him, she grins as his hands shake, trying to slip off her pants.

“Dropping the subject now?” she whispers after biting his earlobe, enjoying the feel of his palms as they curve down her bare ass to remove the offending clothing.

“Yes, sir,” he says back, and mocking as it is, there’s a bit of a gasp there that makes her grin again.

She thinks about rolling them, as she kicks the pants off and to the floor, and pulling him down into her—but with her hands pressing his broad shoulders against the mattress, it’s too tempting not to slide down onto him, watch the shift in his eyes.

“Kara,” he whispers, reaching for her.

There’s nothing else to say as she rides him, shifting her hips so that he slips in easily, shaking her mind with the familiar intimate sensation. She loves this too damn much. He catches the rhythm quickly, hands reaching up to play with her breasts, squeezing in time with her movements, making her clench tightly around him. He’s throbbing for release, especially after her oral before, and she can see the tension in his face as he tries to hold on.

It has her smiling, a little drunk on alcohol, but more drunk on happy sex than she’s been able to be in far too long. She wishes she knew the feeling wouldn’t vanish.

Sam twists at her nipples with his fingers, eyes meeting hers for a second as he gulps down a breath. Kara can feel the sweat dripping down her body, can feel his cock grow even more slick in her as she climbs to the point of no return, ramming her hips down hard and gasping for air.

With a bit of a grunt, Sam suddenly rises on his elbows and flips them both, cock slipping out for a second and making her whine in surprised need. But his kiss is distracting, his tongue doing murder to her lips, the smell of their arousal thick and delicious in the air about them. He slides back in, slow and steady until she hits him.

“If you don’t finish me off quick, you won’t make it till tomorrow,” she growls breathlessly.

She almost catches the hint of a smile on his face as he thrusts in deep, a quick journey all that remains between them and climax. And Kara’s smugly satisfied to break first, however smug one can be when shaken by waves of pleasure that rock her back against the sheets, making unashamed noises as Sam still drives in her, sending shivery jolts up her spine as she winds down.

He crashes around her a minute later, breaking, holding in half his cry, one hand holding tight to her shoulder. Kara’s eyes drift close as he holds still for a moment, as they both heave in breaths and try to rearrange their minds into something that can think again. Clumsily, Sam rolls to his side, and despite the wet spot Kara doesn’t move.

She shifts a little on her side after a moment, and his arm falls to rest there, fingertips brushing at her belly as he’s half-spooned against her back. The rush is going, going, almost gone, and the pull of reality is a wearier weight than gravity ever could be. Frowning, not wanting all of life again, she makes a mumbling noise and rolls towards him, placing her hand on his chest to feel him breathe.

That’s all they do for a moment, just breathe. Their little world of teasing and frakking may have lasted from Joe’s until here, but as soon as Kara leaves, she knows it’ll fall apart. And she doesn’t know how long it might take to build it back up. It’ll be long. That’s all she needs to know, all that’s necessary for her to realize that she still wants to deny it.

But all she says aloud is a contented, sighing, “That was good.” And she nuzzles at his chest, trying to keep on enjoying the smell and feel of him like this, trying not to remember why she ever gave it up.

“It was,” he says quietly back, arm wrapping around her waist and holding her gently.

The closeness makes her adrenaline spike without her wanting it too, and the dryness in her mouth isn’t pleasant. She swallows it down, shoves it back, forgets New Caprica again and tries not to flinch away for both their sakes.

“This,” he continues, slowly, rubbing a circle in the small of her back. “Kara, it’s still not all I’m hoping for.” It’s almost a whisper.

Kara closes her eyes tight. “I know.”

When she doesn’t say anything else, his arm loosens around her, and his exhale is long and slow and inevitable.

“I know, Sam,” she says without looking up at his face, not wanting to see the look on his face—and knowing she couldn’t bear it, not when her mind is broken and twisted, and she can only keep it whole long enough for a simple frak. “It’s just not going to be more than this all that soon.”

His hand finds hers, and gives her fingers a little squeeze. Kara’s chest tightens, and she needs to get away before she says things that may not mean anything. Biting down, she manages not to say a word, and her eyes sting but that’s as far as it goes. Sam knows. She doesn’t have to tell him, he knows. Gods, that’s what their relationship has always had, even if it stumbled over it at times.

The weight of war doesn’t lift with Sam solid behind her as she lies against him on the bed. It takes a while for it to get too achingly heavy, though, and for that while she stays. Stays and doesn’t hate him.

Finally, body itching with unwanted memories, she grimaces as she sits up and grabs for her clothes. Before she leaves, she looks back, conflict eating at her heart. His eyes are full of too much emotion, but when he nods, she nods back.

She leaves as she’s left too many times since the planet, but she knows it, and this time the relaxation doesn’t carry the price of bitterness. It’s the best she can manage for them both, but since she knows the worst they’ve been at, there’s no way Kara’s complaining about this. And it’s not a vain hope to think that Sam might be able to do the same. It’s a hope she’s holding onto.


End file.
